


Gwen

by nemo_baker



Series: Illusion Anxiety [4]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/M, Fear, Hurt, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:59:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4517580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nemo_baker/pseuds/nemo_baker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The members of the Torchwood team are forced to face some of their deepest fears when an alien takes up residence in the Cardiff sewers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gwen

**Author's Note:**

> make sure to read Premise (part 1 of this series) first to understand what's going on, then you can read in any order you choose!

Gwen bit her lip nervously as she rounded a corner, and once again found no sign of the alien the team was pursuing. She was convinced that there should have been something by now, and wondered if the others were having more luck. All the better if they were, since she wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. The batteries in her torch were running low, and the light faltered as she explored the tunnel. The dusty air kept catching in her throat, making her lungs itch. Her eyes watered and stung from coughing.

Absolutely nothing of note had happened since she’d dropped into the sewer. The only thing she’d discovered so far was a large quantity of cobwebs. What had at first seemed like an interesting mission was quickly turning to fruitless tedium. At least, she reflected, it couldn’t be too much longer before she reached the meet point. Maybe Jack would tell them to call it quits and come back another day. She continued to worry the flesh between her teeth, and moved forward.

Dust wasn’t the only thing present in the air. It was almost humid, presumably because of the many puddles of stagnant water coating the ground, and the mugginess clung to her like a second skin. She wiped a hand across her brow to catch a droplet of sweat rolling down her face. She’d already shed her jacket, tied the loose sleeves securely around her middle, but her entire body still felt weighed down. Sluggish and slow.

With a discontented huff, she casually slid one hand into the pocket of her jeans. Only to be surprised as a bit of paper brushed against her fingertips. She smiled to herself, realizing Rhys must have put it there. It was something of a habit of his, writing little love notes and hiding them among her belongings. She’d found them in all manner of places, including one memorable occasion on which there had been one taped to the inside of her mobile.

No one could say Rhys Williams was not a romantic.

She plucked the note from her pocket and held it under the torchlight. There, written in Rhys’s bold script, was a single sentence.

_I know what you are._

She stopped in the middle of the corridor, puzzled. She flipped the note over for an explanation, and saw only the same sentence written out again.

_I know what you are._

But what was Rhys talking about?

She reached into her other pocket, and realized there was a second note. She accidentally scraped her forefinger against the edge of the paper, and winced as her skin split. She took out the note, ignoring the droplet of blood that had seeped into the page from her cut.

_You lied._

Her confusion deepened, as well as her uneasiness. There were many things she had never told Rhys the truth about, but she was at a loss as to how he could have discovered any of them.

She grasped for her phone, and typed in half of Rhys’s number before realizing she had no signal. However, there were four new text messages from earlier in the day. She pressed the ‘Talk’ button firmly, and the first message opened.

_I know about Torchwood._

“What?” Shock slammed through her. It wasn’t possible.

_You lied to me. I can’t believe I trusted you._

“Oh, no,” she whimpered. “Rhys…”

_I can’t believe I loved you._

Her hand shook. She scrolled to the last message.

_I don’t want to do this anymore._

She had to get to the exit, and get back home. She had to find him and explain, or he would leave her.

At that moment, her torch died completely and the phone slid from her grasp. She cursed, shaking the torch to get it to come on again. It remained resolutely dark. Throwing it aside, she fell to her knees. She skimmed her palms across the floor, feeling for the smooth plastic of her mobile. Her fingers dragged through water, bumped against rocks.

“Come _on._ ”

Rhys’s words fell like the blows of a hammer, his accusations burning red-hot. Shame and panic clouded her mind as she searched. Her mouth was dry and her breath forceful. The reality of losing Rhys had slammed into her like a brick wall...

No. She wouldn’t lose him.

She couldn’t.

She came across a harsh line carved into the stone. She outlined it carefully with her finger, trying to identify what she’d found. And then the floor was suddenly bathed in light from her battered torch. There was a single word etched into the ground.

_LIAR._

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Oh, God, Rhys!”

_LIAR._

“Forgive me. Please, forgive me. I love you. I _need_ you.”

_LIAR._

“I’m sorry!”

She tried to scramble to her feet, but the heel of her shoe caught on something soft. She flung out a hand to steady herself against the floor, and was met with the soft fabric of her sweater.

Except, the sweater wasn’t actually hers.

Rhys had given her one of his own this morning, before she’d left for work. He’d kissed her on the cheek and given her a winning smile. Told her to call him when she was headed home.

He was making pasta tonight.

A hysterical laugh escaped her, and she brought the article of clothing to her face. She rubbed the worn cuff against her cheek and breathed deeply.

When she looked back, she saw that the stone was smooth and unbroken.

But the word “LIAR” was still there. Painted by the blood from her finger.  



End file.
